In a Writer's World
by LovingNinja
Summary: Danny's been down on his luck with the ladies. Now, he's found himself a friend and colleague at the market. DannyXOC Rated 16plus for language and sexual situations. A Meet Market (2008) fan fiction.


**All right, guys! Here's a Meet Market (2008) fan fiction starring Danny boy~ DannyXOC  
>I do not own Meet Market or the characters, just the OC Zoey.<strong>

**Please Read and Review!**

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><p><em>Life is hard. No matter what you do, who you know, or where you go, it's always a struggle. Especially if you have a dream. Being a writer just isn't simple, ever. Trying to sell even one short-story is near-impossible in this market, and to be honest it's really getting to me and adding to my slump. My uncle slash editor says that I need to take a break from trying and that one day it will just hit me. Says I have that talent, but not the means, or something like that. I'm already in my mid-twenties, so my concerns are rational, aren't they? If only I could meet someone, meet a nice guy to help take my mind off of everything. It's been years since I've even been on a date, not since high school. Now…<em>

"Oh! Sorry!"

A pair of separate hands had touched just briefly as they reached for a tub of vegetable dip. Two pairs of eyes glanced up as both retracted in a nervous sense. One pair blue, the other hazel. A young woman with a youthful appearance, raven colored hair up in a sloppy bun with strands framing her face stood beside an older man; a blonde in his possible mid-thirties at oldest. He was dressed in a hell a lot of blue; jeans with a light shaded shirt with a graphic in the center, and a darker shaded long sleeve showing underneath; and his face almost made the young woman laugh.

_Some reason, it makes me think of a kid's face._

"I, uh," he spoke, his voice making her ears twitch and a warmth bubble in her cheeks, "you can have it." He gestured to the tiny tub with a chivalrous, yet nervous, smile. "I'm sure you need it for a party or something."

She snorted, "What makes you say that?" Odd. Usually she would simply say thanks and be on her way, but somehow she responded to his guess and invoked a possible conversation with a question.

"Uhm," his eyes scanned her as apparently her question took him off guard in a similar way it had to her. "You look like you're dressed for a sleepover."

Glancing down at her attire, the young woman scowled. She was dressed in checkered pajama-pants of dark blue and thistle, an alizarin shaded crimson long sleeve turtle neck bunched at the elbows and decaying dirt-colored slippers on her feet. Her cheeks flushed a bit as she looked up into his eyes, her lips twitched as she grumbled, "I'm working right now, actually."

"Oh, I'm sorry," his free hand that wasn't carrying the basket identical to hers in her own palm reached to the back of his already mussed blonde hair. "Well…then…"

"I'm a writer," she blurted as she grabbed hold of the tub of dip as if it was the last and rightfully hers. "I needed some fresh air so I didn't change. No point in it."

"Oh," his brows arched and he beamed a grin, "no, I get it! I'm a writer, too!" His back straightened and with a light in his eyes he turned his body to completely face her. "I'm a script writer."

"I'm," she paused. He seemed a bit confused for a minute, but she soon found a comfortable description for herself. "I'm not published yet, but I've been working on a collection of short stories."

"Is that so?" he leaned back a bit, eyes looking as if they were examining her. "Well, you're still young. Focus on what you can, because soon enough you'll miss your teenage years and you won't have an easy time of focusing on what you need to."

"I-I'm twenty-five…"

"O-Oh, my gosh," he covered his mouth. "I'm sorry, I thought-!"

With a sigh, she shook her head, "No, it's fine. I'm told often that I look fourteen."

"Well, I would say sixteen," he blurted.

"Oh yay," the young woman pumped an apathetic fist in the air with the dip still in her palm, "I've grown older."

At her response, the blonde snorted, again covering his mouth with apologetic eyes and replying with, "I-I'm so-"

"If you say 'sorry'," she raised the condiment in her hand towards his face, feigning a threatening expression, "I'll throw this tub at you."

A moment passed, a second one, and a third one before both of them had to refrain from a sudden impulse of laughter.

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><p><em>I can honestly say that I've never felt that I was one who was often "sought after". I know I was never the hottest guy around even if I keep myself fit. Though I try to be understanding to women, it always seemed like that bored them, and then when I played the tough guy that would just offend them. I can admit that as a man, I do want sex. That's a given. But, I do want a meaningful relationship as well. I want a sincere love with an adoring woman. The last couple of attempts ended tragically, and I decided onwards that I would let things flow naturally.<em>

_I've been doing well with that, surprisingly. I've been able to focus more on work and myself. I met Zoey three weeks ago at the market and we've been meeting twice a week ever since. We're not dating, not in the least, as since we're both writers and I've been having my blocks and she's been trying to get published, we decided to meet up on certain days so we can bounce ideas off each other and exchange advice. She's ten years younger, but she's awfully smart. She's quirky and at times a little scary. She's passionate and aggressive, and helping her out fills me with a kind of pride and joy; almost like a big brother._

_Yeah, she's attractive. Has a baby face so lots of younger men are all over her whenever we go out to a café to talk; and that's the only time I ever see her out of her pajamas. If I go to her place, she doesn't even do her hair. When we go out, she even goes out of her way to put on chapstick._

_But, here we are now. Sitting in my living room and going over notes. I've got a drama I need to work on and she's working on some sort of suspenseful thriller._

"Danny?"

"Hm, yeah?"

As he sat on his couch looking over her scribbles and she was lying on the floor, back flat as she held his script atop her chest, she looked up at him with a puzzled expression. "You haven't been listening at all, have you?"

"Huh?" He sat up, pushing off of the plush pillow against the arm of the couch, his hair mussed up like always as the notebook slipped into his lap. "What do you mean?" he chuckled weakly. "Of course, I was…I always…"

She gave him a look, and he sighed.

"Okay, no. What's up, toots?"

_Whack!_

"_Owwa_!" a hand went up to his shoulder where one of Zoey's reference books hit. "What was that for?!"

"What are you thinking about, you perv?"

"Wha? Why do you always assume I'm thinking about perverted things?"

Zoey scoffed, "It's been about a month since you've been laid, hasn't it?"

Chin up, Danny scowled, "So?"

"I know how men work," she shrugged, fingers playing at the corners of the paper. "You're thinking about pounding some pussy."

"Watch that mouth of yours!" he screeched, cheeks flushing red. "I can't believe something so tiny and innocent looking can say such revolting things."

"It's only the truth."

"Well, it isn't," he huffed, leaning down to slide the book Zoey threw at him back to her. "I was thinking about how I've been strangely all right with being single for the first time in a while."

"You've been sleeping around, haven't you?"

"No!"

There was a silence between them, she adjusted the hood of her jacket beneath her head before she looked back to his script, "So, anyway…I wanted to ask you what you were thinking of the first chapter…"

"Oh," he flipped back to the front of the notebook, "it seems fine so far. I haven't finished it just yet."

"Is it intriguing?"

Tilting his head to the side, Danny gave a crooked grin, "Well, there's a few parts where I'm lost."

Inhaling deeply, Zoey sat up, grumbling as she rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her palms, "Just…write in the margins and I'll fix whatever it is."

Smile slipping off his lips, the blonde man turned on his couch, allowing his feet to hit the floor as he inquired, "You all right, Zo?"

"Yeah, just a little tense," she raised his script in hand before smacking it against her knee. "Scripts are totally different with the setup compared to novels and short stories, but you can still paint such a perfect picture. I'm jealous."

"Zoey," he cooed, attempting a weak smile as she glowered up at him. "It's fine. I mean, your style is just a bit…odd…but in a unique way. It's not bad, just different…"

"Different doesn't sell, Danny."

"But, it gets fans," he placed the notebook down beside him, rising to his feet and walking over a few steps before he extended his hand down to her. She hesitated, but she took his hand and he pulled her up, hauling her up and making her lose her footing to where she almost fell backwards, but he grabbed hold of her shoulders to keep her in place. He laughed, "You all right?"

"Yeah, no thanks to you," she tried to frown but a smile was winning her lips over as she punched him in the arm.

"Ow! Why are you so violent?!"

"You're just figuring that out?" she threw his script and the reference book onto the couch next to her rough draft, hands on her hips she clicked her tongue. "So, we gonna get dinner?"

Blue eyes glanced outside where it was already dark and the street lights were shining. He looked down to his watch and gaped, "It's ten!"

"So?" she shrugged.

"It's late! You should be getting home!"

"We haven't eaten yet!"

"Well, what do you suggest then? It's too late for a big meal! Just…go home and make some soup!"

Scowling, Zoey walked over towards the kitchen, grabbing hold of the phone on the counter and she dialed with a serious expression on her face.

"Who are you calling?!" Danny asked, exasperated.

"Pizza."

"It's ten! Everyone is closing!"

Looking at her own watch she hummed, "There's still ten minutes left and I know someone at Charlie's. We're having pizza."

"You've got to be kidding…"

Sticking her tongue out, she made herself comfortable on the couch once more, flipping through his script before someone picked up. "Hi, I'd like to make an order…"

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><p>With the sound of the water rushing to refill the toilet following him as he left his bathroom, hands dried by his hand towel, he felt his stomach ache from the amount of cheese and meat that filled it as Zoey had gotten two large pies. He stepped into his living room and just as he was about to speak, he silenced himself at the sight of the young raven-haired woman passed out on his couch, curled up in fetal position with her toes curled and arms wrapped about her midsection. Her hair was slipping off the edge of the furniture like a midnight waterfall, and her lashes didn't even flutter as he made his way over to her.<p>

Reluctantly, he glanced to the empty cardboard boxes before nudging her shoulder. She whined, eyes clenching shut, and nuzzled her face deeper into the seat cushion. "Hey, Zoey, get up," he whispered. "C'mon."

He gave her another nudge before her eyes peeked open, they were looking red and a bit watery as they glanced at him, her brows were furrowing as she whimpered, "Daniel."

Danny felt the tips of his ears tingle, and he sighed, smiling gently down at her, he slipped an arm under her torso to assist her into a sitting position. "C'mon, let's get you to the bed."

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><p><strong>To Be Continued...!<strong>

**Thanks for reading~!**

**~LovingNinja~**


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